


Not Quite Broken

by whitchry9



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Medical, Seizures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt's stumbling around more than usual and isn't making any sense. So Foggy calls Claire, who's good at fixing things.<br/>Unfortunately, she can't fix a seizure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt is here: https://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/725.html?thread=434901#cmt434901

When Matt showed up at Foggy's apartment, he was slurring his words and walking into things like an ordinary blind person would. To top it all off, he had a head wound that was bleeding sluggishly, and he was having problems with his memory.

So Foggy called Claire, gave her his address, and went back to corralling Matt and attempting to get him to sit down.

 

Matt was pacing around Foggy's living room, occasionally tripping over the coffee table, which had been in the same position for nearly a year. Matt had never tripped over it before, even when nearly black out drunk.

So Foggy was concerned.

“Matty, will you please sit down,” he pleaded. “Claire is coming, and I want to get your costume off before she gets here. Please.”

Matt paused in his lap, and turns his head towards Foggy. He can't help but feel he's being scrutinized.

“Why'd you call Claire?” he mumbled.

“Your head is bleeding,” Foggy told him, for what was probably the third time.

And again, Matt touched a hand to his head and examines his fingers. For what, Foggy doesn't know. He can't exactly see if there's blood on his hand, so it's kind of a moot point.

“Come on Matt, sit down,” Foggy muttered, steering Matt towards the couch.

Matt allowed himself to be pushed into a sitting position, and even started to take off his costume, just like Foggy asked.

“Do you need any help?”

Matt paused. “With what?”

“Getting your costume off...”

Matt hesitated. “Why am I taking it off?”

“Claire is coming. You hurt your head.”

“Ouch,” Matt said, without any real feeling behind it.

Foggy smiled at him. “Yeah buddy. Ouch. Can you keep taking your costume off?”

Matt nodded, before frowning and placing a hand to his face. “Whoa,” he said. “Dizzy.”

“Maybe don't do the nodding?” Foggy suggested. “Here, I'll help.”

He pulled on a conveniently placed zipper to free one of Matt's legs. Matt mostly sat by idly, but on occasion he would point out a zipper that Foggy couldn't find, or help shrug off pieces of the armour. Foggy wasn't entirely sure how the man put it on by himself, but there was a lot to be said for a non-concussed state.

And this sure as hell wasn't it.

 

They were just getting the last pieces off, thankfully Matt was wearing an undershirt and shorts underneath, when Claire arrived.

“Thanks for coming,” Foggy said, greeting her at the door. She glanced quickly around at his apartment, and Foggy was only a tiny bit embarrassed at the mess.

“Nice place,” she noted. “How's he doing?”

“Really confused,” Foggy replied. “Keeps forgetting what he's doing.”

Claire hummed. “Okay. I'll do a neuro check. Make sure his brain is where it's supposed to be.”

“Not sure it ever was,” Foggy muttered, and Claire snorted.

“Can't say I disagree,” she replied. “Hey Matt. How are you doing?”

She pulled one of the armchairs closer to the couch, and was sitting across from him, examining him closely.

“Claire? What're you doing here?”

“Foggy called me. He said you hurt yourself,” she told him, pulling her gloves on and prodding at his head wound.

Matt hissed in response. “Ouch,” he said, this time with more feeling behind it.

“Matt, I'm going to tell you three words. Can you remember them for me for a minute? I'm going to ask you for them again.”

“Okay,” Matt said, dubious.

“Acorn, traffic, violin. Got them?”

“Yeah,” Matt sighed.

“Okay, how many fingers?” She held up two.

Matt sat for a moment.

“Matt?” she prodded. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Oh. Three.”

“Okay,” she said evenly. “And now?” She held up four.

“Um... five.”

She nodded.

It was a testament to Matt's current mental state that he didn't point out she was lying.

“Can you tell me what happened? How did you hurt your head.”

“My head?” Matt asked, reaching a hand up to it again. “Ow,” he hissed.

“Yes, I'm sure it hurts, please stop poking at it,” Claire told him, grabbing his wrist and setting his arm back into his lap. “How did it happen?”

Matt thought for a moment. “Why are you in Foggy's apartment?”

Foggy grimaced. It was clear that Matt didn't remember how he'd gotten hurt. Hell, he probably didn't even remember showing up.

“He called me because he was worried about you,” Claire said gently. “Now, can you tell me those three words that I told you to remember?”

“What words?” Matt asked. He blinked slowly. “I feel... weird,” he said slowly, rubbing his forehead with his one hand. He blinked again, even more slowly this time. “Slow... 'n... sick...”

He closed his eyes, and kept them closed this time.

“Matt?” Claire asked, loudly. “Matt, I need you to open your eyes for me. Matt?”

Matt didn't respond, and Foggy was starting to get worried. Only because Claire was, of course. Not for any other reasons.

Claire took two knuckles to Matt's chest and rubbed hard. It only elicited a groan from Matt, without any sign of him being aware of it.

“Matt?” she repeated.

This time, Matt's response was to stiffen, all of his muscles contracting at once as he straightened up on the couch.

“Shit,” Claire hissed.

“What? What's happening?” Foggy asked.

“Help me get him onto the floor. Now,” Claire snapped, leaving no room for discussion.

Foggy jumped into action, lifting Matt to the floor with Claire's help, Matt's body still stiff and tense everywhere. Foggy wasn't even sure if he was breathing.

Once he was on the floor, Claire shoved her armchair away and pushed at the couch with her foot. Foggy got the message and moved it away from Matt just as he started jerking.

“What?...” Foggy started to say, but didn't know how to finish. He didn't know how to deal with anything that was happening.

He watched in horror as Matt continued to writhe on the floor. He knew what this was. It was a seizure. But he'd never seen one, let alone on his best friend.

Matt was making choking noises, his breathing halted and gasping in between his spasms. It looked like it _hurt._ Claire was busy around him, continuing to move furniture, grabbing Matt's discarded clothing to place under his head, cushioning it as he continued to jerk. Because that was all he needed, to smack his head off the floor and get a head injury during a seizure that was probably caused by the head injury he already had.

 

Foggy didn't know what to do with himself, sure that everything he could do would only make it worse. He wanted to hold Matt, make sure he didn't hurt himself, but was certain it wouldn't help. After all, Claire wasn't holding him down or touching him, other than to protect his head.

He straightened up, crossing his arms and doing a couple laps back and forth in front of the couch, watching.

 

On the floor, Matt's movements had begun to slow to twitching movements, and his limbs seemed to be relaxing. It was ending.

 

“Call an ambulance,” Claire ordered him, holding out her cell phone.

“What? No. You know how he gets.”

Claire glared at him. “This isn't something we can deal with here. He could be bleeding into his brain. He needs a hospital Foggy.”

Muttering to himself, Foggy accepted the phone she handed him and dialled 911. On the floor, Claire was positioning Matt on his side, checking his breathing and pulse as she did.

At least he was already out of his costume.

 

They wrestled Matt's limp body into a pair of sweats before the paramedics arrived. He was still unconscious, and Claire reassured him that was normal.

“It's like his brain just reset. It takes a while to boot back up again.”

“Okay,” he replied softly.

Matt's only response was his soft breathing.

 

When the paramedics arrive, Claire gave them a short description of the events, albeit missing some of the more confidential bits.

“He's a thirty year old male. He just seized for about forty seconds, full body tonic clonic. His breathing was okay during it, and he's been fine since. His vitals are relatively normal, but he's still unresponsive.”

The male paramedic looked at her funny, and she only shrugged. “I'm a nurse.”

“Okay, thank you. What's his name?”

“Matt,” Foggy said quickly.

“Matt, can you hear me?” The man rubbed Matt's chest like Claire did just before, and this time he didn't stir. The man grabbed a pen light from his shirt pocket and held it up to Matt's eye.

“Oh, his eyes won't respond to light,” Foggy offered helpfully. “He's blind.”

The paramedics exchanged a glance.

“Do you know how he got this head wound?” the woman asked.

Foggy shook his head. “I asked him, but he was pretty confused. He just showed up at my apartment. I wasn't with him when it happened.”

She nodded.

 

As they transferred Matt onto the stretcher, still not stirring, she told them that one of them could accompany him.

“You go,” Claire nodded at him.

“Thanks,” Foggy sighed.

She shrugged. “He's your best friend.”

Foggy smiled halfway. Yeah, he was. Despite everything that had happened between them, he still was. He grabbed his phone and a cane Matt had left at his apartment before following the paramedics.

 

The ride to the hospital was uneventful, Matt not stirring the entire way, and once they reach the emergency room, he was seated in the waiting room with a clipboard and a form to fill out. He knew some of the things, name, _Matthew Michael Murdock,_ date of birth, previous medical conditions, _blinded at age nine_ ~~ _with chemicals that enhanced his senses_~~ _._

It was when he got to some of the trickier questions that he didn't know how to answer. Past medical history.

Oh boy. He sure as hell wasn't going to include all the injuries Matt got while Daredevil-ing, but if they did x-rays or scans or whatever, he was pretty sure they could see them.

Plus, the man was covered in scars.

Foggy would have to make up some sort of excuse for that, if the time came. Maybe some sort of fight club. Yeah, that would totally work.

Events leading up to the injury. _Let himself into my apartment, walked into the table a couple times before having a seizure._

He erased it.

_Unknown cause of head wound, then he had a seizure._

Foggy pondered what family history meant for a minute before a nurse startled him.

“Sorry,” she said, “But the doctors want to clarify a few things. Can you come with me?”

“What about...” Foggy waved the clipboard at her.

“Oh, that's fine. I can take it.”

She relieved him of his clipboard and led him down various hallways before stopping in front of a curtained off area. The curtain wasn't drawn all the way around the bed, and Foggy could see Matt, a nurse on one side of him and a doctor on the other.

They had stuck tubes on his face and one in his arm, and it didn't look like he'd woken up yet. The nurse was cleaning his head wound.

“You came in with him?” the doctor asked.

Foggy glanced up. “Yeah, I'm his best friend.”

“And you say he's blind?”

Foggy nodded. “Since he was nine.”

“Completely blind? No light perception?”

Foggy shook his head. “Nothing.”

The doctor nodded. “Okay. It's just something we need to know. We can't check to see if his eyes respond to light then.”

“Yeah,” Foggy said.

“And do you know how he got some of these other injuries?” she continued. She pulled down the hospital gown they had dressed him in to reveal his upper chest. Foggy winced at the sight of the scars, remembering when they were brand new and spilling blood on the floor of Matt's apartment. God, that was an awful night.

“I'm not entirely sure,” he said honestly. “I think he does some alternative fighting? I know he's gotten mugged at least once. People think he's an easy target,” he explained.

The doctor frowned. “There are quite a few wounds here. Almost like he'd been tortured.”

Foggy shrugged. “Did that cause the seizure?”

“No, probably not. We're going to take him for a scan to see if he has any bleeding in his brain that could have caused this. It could just be swelling that will go down on its own, but if there's blood it may need to be drained.”

Foggy nodded.

“The head wound shouldn't need stitches, which is good, but we will apply strips to keep the edges together.”

Foggy nodded again. Matt was familiar enough with the protocol, and by virtue of being his best friend, now so was Foggy.

 

They took Matt for a scan and sent Foggy back out to a waiting room.

It was an anxious time.

 

When they came to fetch Foggy, they told him that while the results of the scan wouldn't be back for an hour or so, the preliminary results looked good.

“You can sit with him now,” the nurse told him, leading him back to his best friend, who was still asleep. Or unconscious. Hard to tell. “Just call us if he wakes up, because we need to check his neurological function.”

Foggy nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

 

It seemed like forever before Matt began to stir, and Foggy kept nearly drifting off, which wasn't his fault, because it was late (early) and he was tired.

 

The doctor popped her head in an hour later and told Foggy that there was no brain bleed on the scan, and the seizure was probably a one time thing, although they would continue to monitor him in the future in case it happened again. She also told him that they would like to keep him for a day or so to observe him, and Foggy nodded, but knew Matt would never agree to it.

 

She left, and Foggy waited for Matt to wake up.

The sun was starting to come up, just peeking through the tiny window into the even tinier room, when Matt shifted in the bed.

 

Foggy didn't hold his breath, knowing that Matt would probably wake up slowly and be a bit confused.

He continued stirring, and finally opened his eyes. Foggy knew he didn't see anything, but it meant he was awake.

“Hey buddy,” he said softly.

“Foggy?” Matt said, reaching a hand out to grab for him.

“Yeah, I'm here Matty,” Foggy replied, grabbing his hand. “How's your head?”

Matt scrunched his face up. “It really hurts. Did I break it?”

Foggy smiled. “No Matt, it's not exactly broken. Not quite. But you did seem to get hit pretty hard in it though. They took you for a brain scan, and apparently everything is where it's supposed to be.”

Matt considered that for a minute. “M'in a hospital. Why?”

Foggy grimaced. “You had a seizure. Claire told me this was something she couldn't handle. You're okay, we got you changed.”

Matt nodded. “Okay.” He sighed. “Everything hurts.”

“Yeah, it looked like it hurt,” Foggy said sympathetically. “And the doctor wants to keep you for a day or so, but I figured...”

“Home,” Matt insisted. “Everything here... it hurts.”

Foggy nodded. “Okay buddy. Give it a bit longer though, okay? Just so you can wake up and get your bearings and we can find you some clothes.”

Matt scrunched his face up again. “Where did my clothes go?”

“I actually don't know,” Foggy admitted. “The doctors wanted to check your neurological function first though, so I'll go find one. You'll be okay here on your own for a minute?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, smiling a bit. “I'll be just fine.”

 


End file.
